


The End

by vivianne_leigh



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Established Relationship, Forgiveness, Gen, Heavy Angst, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:12:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianne_leigh/pseuds/vivianne_leigh
Summary: Men at some time are masters of their fates:The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,But in ourselves, that we are underlings.





	The End

Songbird is being _good_.

* * *

 

He is doing what he has been taught; he is guarding his Little One by any means necessary; painting himself red in tooth and claw, unfailing and unflinching even as gunships roar their fury and strangers riddle him with bullets. Nothing else matters as he swoops

over the city, low enough that the bleeding cracks in his yellow eye drip onto the streets below, as gentle as summer rain. He’s caught between burning with rage and shame- no one should have touched her, she’s his as he is hers- and the embarrassment that someone _did_ , while he slept only yards away stings uncomfortably.

 

_Wantwantwantwantwantwantwant_

 

She is as solid as a ghost between his claws; he grabs her and she slips away, he scents her and the trail leads nowhere: her voice rings across the city yet leads him straight to where he started. He has no mouth, no way to scream, so he compensates: fills the air with his screeching wail of a voice and crushes bystanders, sending gobs of stringy red through the air.

 

_Wherewherewherewherewhere?_

 

When he finds her, there's already a lot gone wrong. A dark bruise rings one blue eye, wine-dark and _hungry_ , soaking quickly across her skin even as he huddles close to her, listening to the soft flutter of her heart in her chest. It’s his favorite sound. Sensing something behind her (ugly, intruder, _bad_ ) he cocks his head and curls a raggedy wing around her, around _them_ , gory talons ripping at the floor of the command deck in warning. The figure stands its ground, aggressive, and Songbird tightens his fists and tenses, already falling into the old dance of violence. The strange man tenses in return, calloused hands going for his holstered weapon and- she touches him.

 

Tiny hands smoothe down his beak, trying to cover as much ground as possible. He leans into the touch, sagging with relief.

 

_Goodgoodgoodgood!!!_

 

She’s so small- _still,_ after all these years, years of him bringing her food and watching her stumble over her own feet, as tiny and unsure as a duckling, and letting her hold his massive fingers for balance. Catching her when she fell. Even now at the memory, Songbird can feel the heat of her toddler grip around his fingers, remember the intense look on her face as she labored to recall the pattern of left and right, left and right.

 

Her hands are still warm, even now. As if to prove it, her fingers spread against the whole glass of his eye, and she looks at him. It feels like the sun, to him.

 

“Shhh...shhh, it's okay, I'm here. Will you help me? I need you to protect me, will you do it? Will you do this for me, just... just this one last thing? Please.”

 

_!!!!! yesyesyesyesyesyes_

 

The last part confuses him, at first, but he will understand later. He focuses on the outsiders, the red ones with the smoke and noise- and following the music, the gentle whistling, he starts picking them off easily flattening ribs and skulls alike. He is content to follow orders. It isn’t until an eternity later that the music stops, breaking off as cleanly as a neck, that he stops feeling satiated with the carnage and starts feeling _angry_ . His Little One is alone, again, at the behest of a stranger. He is **failing**.

 

He wastes no time with the lazy loops of the air currents, now- instead he pivots on a dime and streaks back towards the scarred gunship, filling the air with metallic screams because he is _furious_ . He just wants her to be _safe,_ safe with him, and- and-

 

Something is wrong.

 

His grasping hands hit something hard and cold. The situation comes to him in chunks, disrupted by cold shock- instead, the world becomes clearer in piecemeal, like a puzzle. There is something blocking his hand, and it’s cold. As he ponders these two developments, a third bursts into his mind.

 

He is in _agony_.

 

The realization pierces the confusion like a knife through butter; the pain swallows all reason whole, and a scream bursts from his insides like a feral thing, loud enough he can feel himself trembling. In desperation he goes to cover his head, to block out whatever is torturing him- but he can barely move, instead drifting along.

 

 _badbadbadbadbadnonono_ **_noNoNO_ **

 

It’s **water**.  

 

It’s water and he’s drowning- and as if in confirmation, his breathing tube cracks, letting in a gush of water cold enough to paralyze. Through the layers of pain, he hears something, twists to find the source.

 

It’s her.

 

“Shhh...shhh...it's okay, it's all right. I'm here. Just let go.” She’s safe, pale but whole- he want to hold her again, just one more time, but the wall between them refuses to wane and so he places his palm against it and hopes she can see him, too. She smiles at him, teary-eyed, and he lets his eye flicker green in return. The cracks on his eyes begin to spread like lightning, erratic and greedy, and a cloud of blood mushrooms from the damage.

 

 _Happyhappyhappy_ _pain_ _happypain_ **_pain_ ** **_pain_ **

 

“There you go...there you go.”

 

Using the last of his energy, Songbird looked at her, ruined eyes trailing blood like smoke. After a breathless moment, he went slack and drifted out of sight, already looking smaller. As the ocean finally pulled him down, Songbird sent up one last thought and hoped his Little One could hear it somehow.

 

_love you._

* * *

Songbird had been good.


End file.
